Let Me Hold You
by RiaShelford
Summary: I'm kneeling before the man I have known for so long, and done so much for, but he doesn't see me. I would do anything for him to love me again-if he ever did. Kinda AU, can be read as a Loki/Reader, will end up with about 10 Chapters and definitely some smut.
1. Chapter 1

Loki- Let Me Hold You.

His eyes snap to me, just for a second.

His dark, tall figure lurks silently over the mass of kneeling figures, bowed heads, and closed eyes. The heartbeats of the people surrounding me quicken, and they pound in my ears like relentless drums. I pray for another glance, knowing it's in vain, for I am nothing but another head, lowered to his glory. I wish desperately that he could hear my thoughts: that it doesn't have to be this way, that he can still change, that...I love him.

He doesn't remember me: my name, or my face. Every ounce of work I did for him was nothing. He's forgotten everything I sacrificed for his glory. I am left with nothing. I lost everything for him, and he has forgotten.

There's nothing.

Nothing, in those weak eyes. The cruel, vibrant light that was once there, has too, extinguished. The brightness that was once bore into my skull has been replaced, by rejection, and disappointment, and the ever-present dull, throbbing, hatred. His eyes scan the crowd again, and I lift my head fractionally to steal another glance.

As his eyes fleet past me again, settling, finally, in the distance, I lift my head and admire his delicate, yet terrifyingly imposing frame gaze at a far-off point. I long to feel his long fingers encase my wrist again, or his icy breath trace my ear. But now I am further than I ever have been. I am isolated in the masses.

Then. He freezes, his muscles tensing, agonizingly slowly, one-by-one, as he pivots himself to face me, his cold, calloused eyes finding mine.

"You." He sighs.

His voice is low, but I know it can be heard ringing through the silence. My heart pounds proudly at the thought that he has finally recognized me. Stooping low, he picks up my chin in the cold fingers I have so missed, and directs my face to look into his eyes: square-on. He sighs heavily, expelling the chilling air I have dreamed of since I last saw him onto my eager face. It is useless to disguise my emotions; I adore him with every inch of my ridiculous, human body.

He smirks, lifelessly, and lifts me from my knees, not releasing my chin. As I reach my full height, he stops. Staring at me.

"Clever girl, aren't you?" He taunts.

I can do nothing but stare in awe at his godly beauty.

"Thought you could avoid me?" he questions, his voice too sweet, almost sickly.

I shake my head furiously, my tongue still bound. I wish I could express how I want to hold him, how I want to protect him. But his touch has made me melt, the roles have reversed, and I am his, once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki-Let Me Hold You

It's all over now.

There's no way I can regain control- I am well and truly his. There's a firm, cold hand on my shoulder confirming his ownership. His long serpentine neck folds down to my ear and his lips press firmly into it.

"Let me hold you." He whispers.

His breath leaves the soft spot beneath my chin and he stretches up again scanning the crowd. I'm looking up at the underside of his jaw, watching it tense and relax and he feels my eyes on him. He seems so vulnerable. So closed off from me, so cold. Nevertheless, I nod. Slowly, so as not to give his game away.

A long, thin arm swings around my waist, suddenly, violently, gripping onto my shirt. His fingers tug at the fabric, and I can feel the chill through the material. He doesn't dare look at me, but I can feel his eyes settle on my face every now and again. His body remains harsh and stiff, though our sides are pressed into one another. His hip melts perfectly into the dip of my waist, and my rib cage follows the gently slant of his. It feels like we were made to fit one another, like our bodies were created to complete the other.

Not just our bodies. My mind could never settle for simple human intellect, and Loki couldn't be with anyone who could possibly rival him. He likes to control. He likes to control ME. My mind and my body. I could never say no to him.

I feel my face blush a bright red hue as I remember my earlier confidence and how it has faltered in his presence. I lower my face to my chest to avoid him having to see me so repulsively human.

He notices. Of course he notices. I feel a light chuckle escape his lungs and his fingers dig deeper into my side. He can't let his subjects see, but I can hear it, feel it. I make him feel alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

His hands are twisted into my shirt now, exposing my pale skin to the cold night air. The crowd's heads are all still bowed and they don't see Loki's one weakness: Me. I feel my chest swell with the pride, once again, that Loki wants me. He wants to hold me. I want everyone to know that I can change him, that no matter how cold and callous, his heart will have a small spot for me. And that's enough.

The wind picks up around us, suddenly, dragging my hair across my face and obliterating my vision. Through the gaps my hair forms over my eyes I can make out a bright light falling over us. It descends like a spotlight and our combined form is bathed in a blinding light. His breathing quickens, and his grip around me tightens, but to the crowd kneeling before us-now gaping up at the swarm of helicopters overhead- he is as numb to fear as ever.

Ladders descend from the sky and thousands of black figures - anonymous and faceless- fall from them, sent solely to bring Loki down. To bring us down. It was us now. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, tingling in my fingertips at the thought of it. I am one of the bad guys now. Helicopters will always follow us, running from the authorities, from my world, and his, hands entwined.

Reality crashes over me again, as I feel the night air where Loki's arm was hitched on my hipbone. His absence hurts. Like a piece of me has been torn away, but sensation flows back into my clammy palms as he grabs my wrist and tugs me from the platform on which we were standing. The black ants continue to descend from the ropes in the darkness, oblivious to the suddenly empty spotlight as we slip through the narrow London streets.

The wind bites my face and my hands sting as they graze the rough brick walls ascending either side of us. I don't dare look up, afraid that the buzzing still looming above our heads is getting closer. I shut it out and focus on running. My feet pound into the pavement and every inch of me is ready to give up. But I have spent so long searching for Loki; I will not let him go again. Warm silk flows over my knuckles, I don't look- I know its blood. The streets are so small, and Loki so reckless with my limp body, that my skin is being torn up by the narrow alleys and redbrick walls surrounding us. My other hand is pounding, Loki's grip cutting off my circulation and leaving indents where his fingers force their way deep into my skin. Bruises are beginning to form, but I daren't let go. I am swung around corners crashing into buildings and the slowly passing traffic. My body is battered and no matter how hard I try to cling on, I can feel my grip loosening. We pass taller, darker buildings now and Loki grabs both wrists, forcing me into the gap between two tightly packed high rises. His chest is leant against mine, and his chin rests on my forehead, breathing strained and heavy, whipping through my hair. I have never been closer to him than I am now- in all these years I've known him- one thigh wedged between mine, the other leaning on the wall behind me. The violent rise and fall of his chest pushes my ribcage down, forcing the air from my lungs. As I tilt up my head to free my windpipe I notice his eyes staring down at me. The overcast darkness in his brilliant eyes had gone, unveiling those beautiful bright irises I knew so well. Shallow breath and crisp London air is caught in my throat, and I feel my mouth fall apart in awe. Smirking, my god leans down to graze his perfect lips against mine-I can feel his smile grow wider still beneath the soft pressure of his mouth. Pushing his forehead into mine and sliding our noses past one another, he catches my bottom lip between his, just for a second.

I am still unable to regain my breath and our perfect moment is obstructed by black blotches in vision. My eyelids suddenly of lead, and my limbs numb, and the pounding in my head louder than the sounds of city life around us- I feel myself go limp against his chest. My legs give way and I fall forward onto him, unable to muster up enough energy to move. Loki's eyes are still forcing their way into my soul, and only letting it go at the very last second, he throws me over his shoulder and begins to run.

Lights flash past me; sounds of traffic, helicopters, and screaming merge with the heavy thud of Loki's footsteps and our breath.

"Stop fighting it." Loki orders-his tone soft, but menacing.

I let my head crash against his shoulder blades, and my eyelids close-not needing to be told twice- to let the darkness wash over me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I'm in the dark when I awake. It's so dark, that it's the black my eyes need to adjust to, not the Sun's usual morning glare. For a minute I forget that everything has changed. I forget that I now _belong_ to Loki. For these two isolated minutes I am a young girl again, fresh out of university. My apartment is dark, and no light yet breaks through the window. My boyfriend is lying next to me, legs entwined, his warmth spreading over me…another Sunday morning. No plans. We're going nowhere. I'm working for the government-something secret-but I'm too young to notice, and too dumb to care. I don't love my boyfriend, but he is unassuming and never asks about work, never questions me. He makes me feel _even_ smarter. As if I needed that. I'm 23 and I work for a top-secret government organisation. Human's _need_ me. I'm young, intelligent, dangerous…and I know it. Nothing is stopping me. What I don't know is that-one day; a careless slip-up will cost me everything: my job, my independence, and my life.

I remember the first time I saw him. My boss had shown me a picture on my very first day. That probably should have indicated to me just how dangerous he was, but I hadn't been listening. I remember being transfixed by his chiselled features, his glaring eyes, and his ebony hair against the milky ivory of his skin. I remember his beauty, but not the words of warning she gave me, before setting me up at a desk behind her own. The other employees of the organisation were supposed to keep an eye on me. I was young and impressionable. If Loki could worm his way into our system in any way: it was through me.

But the bed is not warm now. It is cold. And empty.

The bed is a four-poster, grand, and boastfully large, as is everything in the vast chamber my eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the blackness of. The drapes between the four posts are drawn, drowning me in endless rivers of green silk and the impossible dark depth of what I can only assume is the night.

My thoughts are interrupted by icy fingers sweeping over my forehead. The soft fingertips curve across my brow, catching on my eyelids. I close my eyes instinctively, inhaling deeply as the beautiful chill crosses over my face again, fingernails scratching lightly at my lips as the hand moves lower and lower. I feel the palm on my neck now, and it lingers a little over my windpipe. A subtle pressure pushes me into the pillow beneath my head, and quickly abandons my throat again, to find the ridges of my collarbones protruding from my goose-pimpled skin. The fingers scratch at me again. Harder this time, no doubt leaving red marks that will brand me his. Before the hands can get any lower, they slip under my ribs, gripping at my shoulder blades and pulling my entire torso upright to press against the chest that is looming over me. Gasping I am brought face to face with my God again.

Loki is sitting on the bed, our chests pressed together, and breathing heavily past my ear. I am staring into his brilliant eyes, but he is looking straight through me, reaffirming my position.

The moment is brief, and before I can gather enough breath to speak he barks loudly into my ear. "Get dressed." he orders, drawing back one of the emerald curtains and nodding at a mahogany dresser in the far corner.

My heart drops a little. I have been aching for some affection, some small sign that we will be _together. _But Loki will not let his guard down, not after laying his beautiful fragility bare before me, that night- above the crowd. I imagine we will be running again. We shan't be staying here long. I suppose we'll never be staying anywhere for very long now. With heavy, forced steps I make my way to the dresser, and am for the first time since awaking aware of what I am wearing.

The nightdress is not old as such- it smells brand new, and is completely flawless. The design is closer to Victorian in fashion than 21st Century styles I've become accustomed to. White lace dances about my ankles, and lines the curve beneath my collarbones. Black silk clings to my thighs and chest, which can just be seen in flashes between the lining of the soft green satin gown which trails on the floor behind me. My feet are bare, so I tiptoe across the icy marble floor, swinging my hips a little more than necessary. I hope that Loki changes his mind, scraps his plans and stays in this beautiful room with me all day- but I know that he won't, because unlike me, he doesn't writhe under the same human desires I do.

The wardrobe is unfathomably tall and grand-with intricate carvings of creatures I do not recognise creeping along the dark wooden frame. A pull of the metallic handles reveals an equally magnificent interior- rows and rows of dresses in every possible shade of green, gold and black- and I am taken aback by the sheer amount of silk, tulle and chiffon spilling out from the massive cupboard.

I have never been a girl for dresses. Of course, I know how to dress myself well. I know how to dress in a way flaunts my assets and makes men…desire me. But for years I have chosen simpler clothing not only for comfort- but also because I have been waiting for Loki to return, and I had promised myself on the day he disappeared that I would never let another man look at me that way again. Nobody could ever fill the space he left, so I waited, and waited. Until eventually, when I could wait no longer, I sought him out, and brought him back. Maybe that was selfish. I didn't do it for anyone but me. But it's not important now: I have cast _myself_ out from the human world. I chose this life. And so now, again, we have to run.

The only thing is…none of the clothes look suitable for running in. Or even for going unnoticed in. I am not a modest person, and I know the effect I have on men. And women. Deciding that none of the dresses will do, I rummage through the wardrobe, tangling net and lace together and leaving a knotted mess on the floor before it. At last I find what I am looking for: a leather vest with exterior cream stitching and matching black trousers. A green belt with an oversized leather buckle is tucked into the black suede boots which sit beneath the outfit. I tug at it, and close the doors again. I turn with such speed that I walk straight into Loki who has silently crossed the room and has been stood behind me at some point during my emptying of the cupboard.

The corners of his mouth turn up and he laughs lightly into my hair, pressing our foreheads together. The touch sends electricity to every corner of my body and I long for him to lean a little further and press our lips together. Instead he straightens and steps past me, letting me stumble forward with the sudden absence of his body's support. When I turn back again to face him, I see he has picked up a full-length green gown from the pile on the floor and is shaking it. Empire line, and completely backless. He grins at the dress and then pushing it to my chest, he grabs the outfit I have selected and throws it onto the bed.

"There'll be occasion for those later" He says through his still twisted lips.

I must be displaying my confusion, for this time he laughs out loud, and making his way to the door turns back to say:

"But for now I need to show you off" He smirks again, and closes the heavy door behind him.

He knows how to make me comply: pride. His rare, kind words always fill me with a glowing sensation that I cannot extinguish. I run to the door and tear it open, and he turns back at the loud noise echoing through the tall corridor.

"Loki…where _are_ we?" I call after him, flinching at the use of his first name.

He doesn't even seem to notice and beaming brightly replies:

"Asgard."


End file.
